Laundry

A confession: I actually like doing laundry.

I know, it's not normal for anyone to enjoy doing laundry, but I really do. I find it soothing and routine and lovely...unless I'm fighting some dreadful stain. Then all my rapture goes right out the window and I'm just like the rest of you normal people.

This picture makes me long for my own place to do laundry. A spot full of natural light and pretty things - where wicker baskets look beautiful against clean white shelves and there are soft rugs for bare feet.

See, I'm in the tiny apartment stage of life, and while I love our cozy little place, it does not have a washer/drier. Now I'm not sure if you've quite made the jump yet to what that means, so allow me to throw out the ugly word so you don't have to - laundromat.

Just this morning Twin and I were talking about how scarce socks and underwear are becoming, but neither of us really wanted to suggest doing anything about this problem. Once you actually commit to needing to do laundry, there's really no backing down, and then you have to face the process of doing laundry at the laundromat.

Oh you didn't know it was a process? First you have to gather everything in your house that needs washed, and try to stuff it all into your laundry basket. Strangely enough, when you avoid doing laundry for long periods of time, you end up with LOTS of things to wash. (rocket science, I know.) Then you have to coax the super-full baskets down the steep, narrow stairs and into the car - and hope that there is no strong wind to blow all of your clothing into the neighbors yard. I do keep meaning to go introduce myself, but that just doesn't seem like the best approach. Next, you go to the atm to withdraw your life savings in cash, because no one has that many quarters just hanging around the house.

When you finally get to the laundromat, you have wrestle your things inside and stake your claim. Now, this is a very important part of the process because if you choose poorly, you are likely to (a) end up with small children running over your toes each time they scream by in pursuit of their sibling, or (b) end up next to the hungover looking college boy who is more interested in your underwear then his own clothing. Twin and I usually divide and conquer at this point, despite the fact that there is strength in numbers. I claim our machines and spread out as quickly as possible, while she goes to convert our hard earned cash into a dumptruck load of quarters.

To be fair, the actual washing and drying part of the process are fairly easy. (Back to why I like laundry so much in the first place.) And if the machines don't unfairly gobble up the quarters, it is usually smooth and uneventful.  Long, but uneventful.  The folding part is a little less fun, mainly since folding one's entire wardrobe is a bit daunting.  

Finally, you complete the process by loading back into the car, back up the stairs, and back into the house.  By this point in the game, you are sweating from all the lugging and hauling, and could care less if you have clean clothes, let alone if they are put away in their proper places.  

So to bring this back to my original point - I want a laundry spot like this one.  

But until then, I will dream of serenity and laundry bliss, and keep my love for laundry on the back burner.  Or more appropriately, in the bottom of my ever growing basket of dirty clothes, not to be seen until the dreaded laundry day.